O, THE gray rocks of the islands and the hemlock green above them, The foam beneath the wild rose bloom, the star above the shoal. When I am old and weary I'll wake my heart to love them, For the blue ways of the islands are wound about my soul. Here in the early even when the young gray dew is falling, And the king-heron seeks his mate beyond the loneliest wild, Still your heart in the twilight, and you'll hear the river calling Through all her outmost islands to seek her lastborn child. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHERHOOD by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY FOUND WANTING by EMILY DICKINSON S. MATTHIAS by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE OLD YEAR by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE DO by ROBERT BURNS THE CITY [OF THE DEAD]. by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. THE SOUL TO THE BODY by EDWARD CARPENTER |